Coke, Pot, and Other Things
by harry.is.a.brave.fool
Summary: Alex was sent back to the SAS camp, for training. But what he didn't know was that there was somone else there as well... Someone who wanted to kill him. MAY BE SLASH. Quote: "I will kill you, Alex. And I will enjoy it."
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider. I do not own the 'Alex-goes-to-the-SAS-camp' plot line. All I own is the writing.

* * *

**_

The heat pounded onto the pavement, warming the tar to an almost unbearable temperature. The woman's sandals made a slapping noise as she walked hurriedly across the tarmac, a stack of papers balanced precariously in her hands.

A shrill whistle cut through the silence like lightning, startling the woman and causing her to drop her papers. Swearing, she reached into a pocket for her mobile, flipping it open angrily.

"Sara Jackson speaking," she said, annoyed.

The sound of heavy breathing came through the other end. "Turn around." The voice was gruff, speaking slowly and deliberately.

Sara was bewildered. "Excuse me?"

"Turn around." This time there was an edge of menace to the words.

"Of all the stupid things…" Muttering under her breath, Sara turned around, gasping in fear when she saw the man.

He was average in height, average in looks -- average in just about everything, really. There was nothing about him that you would remember; he could blend in effortlessly with any crowd. Perhaps that was necessary, because he was carrying a gun. An automatic pistol, one that could be hidden quite easily. And he was pointing it at her.

Her training kicked in. She immediately ducked and rolled to the side, pulling out her gun as she did so. There were rules, of course – no shooting in public places, no damaging public property, avoid killing at all costs. But this was a life or death situation, and she would be damned before she let herself be killed without a fight.

She fired three shots in quick succession. Two of them missed, but one hit the mark, slamming into his chest with chilling accuracy. His face tightened in pain, and he crumpled to the ground. Sara smiled, and turned to leave.

But the man was not to be defeated so easily. Blood was gushing from the wound on his abdomen, and yet the hand that raised the gun was steady. He aimed, and fired.

His aim was perfect. Sara was left reeling in disbelief even as she fell to the floor, the bullet having lodged itself in her stomach. She was aware of people screaming, and cars swerving off the road, before all was dark.

* * *

Alex was doing his homework when the doorbell rang. He heard someone opening the latch on the door. Good. Jack was getting it, then.

"Alex! It's for you!" The yell carried through the house, reaching Alex and causing him to wince. Jack was always so loud, and ever since he had begun working for MI6 his senses had gotten sharper.

He wondered who it could be. All his friends, if they could be called such, were strictly school-only. Except for Tom, of course, but he was sick. No, it was probably someone from the Royal & General. Alex sighed. MI6 was always harassing him about accepting missions. But he had to admit that he had gotten used to it – maybe even started to enjoy it. Thinking about what the rest of the world did for fun – playing football or videogames – never failed to annoy Alex. He wanted, so much, to have a normal life. To have friends, to go to school, maybe even have a girlfriend. To have the only worries in his life be about passing the next exam. But it would be so _boring. _He hated to admit it, but the missions – the constant threat of danger – made life exciting. Maybe he was crazy. But when he thought about his uncle, father, and every other spy in the world, he was filled with a sense of pride. A sort of, _I'm like them. I'm worth something._ And the world did need spies. Governments relied on the information they brought; without which there'd probably be chaos.

He headed down the stairs. Sure enough, there was a man standing near Jack. A man that had the presence and immediate power of a fellow agent. It was not noticeable to others; it was not noticeable to Jack, but having inside knowledge, Alex could sense the capability in this man, the skill and authority he held. Though they were strangers, he felt that, on some level, he could identify with him. Alex had to stifle a groan. He really was different, wasn't he? If he felt a connection with a thirty-something year old stranger, and not with other children his own age, then he was right about not being a teenager. No. He was much older than that.

"Hello." He nodded in the agent's direction. "Should I visit the bank?"

The man looked faintly surprised. "Yes. We have a business deal to make with you."

"When should I come?"

"Tomorrow. At the earliest possible moment. It's very urgent."

"Of course. Now, if you don't mind, I have some homework to finish."

The man looked at Alex. "Right then. I hope to see you at the bank." He let himself out.

Jack was staring incredulously at Alex. "What was that, exactly?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that MI6 have ordered me to take on another mission in which I will probably die, or, barring that, lose a limb or two." Alex paused for a second. "And you know, the weird thing is, I'm actually happy about it."

Leaving Jack to stare up after him, he left the room and went to finish his homework, humming happily all the while.

* * *

Alex entered the bank at precisely 3.04 p.m. Walking straight up to the reception desk, he asked for Mr Blunt. The receptionist looked at him for a moment, measuring him up. Alex felt as though he was being dissected; every organ and bone being measured and then noted down. Only, she was using her eyes instead of a scalpel.

Finally she nodded. "He's in his office. Number 1602."

Thanking her, Alex walked to the lifts. Inside the grey metallic interior, he tried to gather his thoughts. He was being sent on a mission. That much was clear. But what kind of mission? And would it be dangerous? Alex snorted. Of course it would be dangerous.

He reached the sixteenth floor. The doors of the lift opened and he walked out, his eyes already searching for office no. 1602. Finding it, he pulled the door open, not bothering to knock.

Alan Blunt was sitting in his chair, looking intently at a piece of paper in front of him. Mrs Jones was unwrapping a peppermint and placing it in her mouth. Alex couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated. These people had proved themselves to be master manipulators. What would they ask of him next?

"Alex," Mrs Jones said. "Please, sit down."

Alex complied.

"You must be wondering why you're here."

"Not really." He glanced at the paper Mr Blunt was studying. "It's another mission, I guess."

"That's where you're wrong," Blunt spoke for the first time. "Well, actually, only partially wrong. You see, there's been a bit of a problem."

Blunt pressed a button and a screen slid down from the ceiling. A map of London was displayed on the screen. Another click and the map zoomed in, focusing on the Chelsea district. A school was highlighted in bright red.

"That's my school," Alex observed.

"Yes."

Mrs Jones spoke slowly, "A number of people have been getting murdered lately. These people are almost all school teachers, and school children."

Faces flashed by on the screen, men and women of all ages. They were all dead.

"A few weeks ago we received news of numerous killings across Britain. Naturally, we looked into it. One of our own agents, Sara Jackson, was killed as well. It seems that Scorpia has made yet another plan, trying to wreak havoc and cause civil unrest. We don't know the details yet," Mrs Jones paused.

"You want me to find out these details?" Alex asked.

"No. That's for another, older, more experienced agent to deal with."

"Then why am I here?"

Blunt joined in again. "We believe that your school will be targeted next. We can't afford to lose you, Alex. So we have decided to train you."

"I've already been trained." Alex raised an eyebrow. "But if you want me to take the course again—"

"You don't understand. We have decided to train your entire school." Seeing Alex's disbelieving face, he hastened to add, "There will be a trial period. If the program is not satisfactory, then it will be abandoned."

"Let me guess. I'm going to be the guinea pig."

"You and your class. You see, Alex, this way we can keep you _and_ the children safe. Kill two birds with one stone."

"Kill, indeed." Alex muttered under his breath. "Look, where are we going to train?"

"The SAS training grounds."

Alex felt like a weight had been dropped on his shoulders. He would have gladly taken the mission, but this – being sent back to that hellish place – it was almost funny. He would rather deal with psychotic evil master-minds than face Wolf and the rest of K Unit again.

"I don't suppose I have a choice?"

"No."

"Well. I suppose I'll have to agree. But I have a few requests to make."

Blunt raised his eyebrows. It made him look almost human. "What kind of requests?"

Alex pointed at the sheet in front of Blunt. "That."

Mrs Jones looked slightly confused. Mr Blunt, however, did not. His gaze sharpened, and he looked at Alex with calculating eyes.

"But that's just a salary sheet. We keep one for all our agents. It tells us how much we're going to pay them." Mrs Jones's voice petered out as she realised no one was paying much attention to her.

"Exactly." Alex's voice was soft.

Blunt spoke. "You want a salary?"

"Of course. I do just as much work as the rest of your agents, and I get nothing."

"You realise that the money will be put into a trust fund. You won't be able to access it until you're twenty-one."

Alex shrugged. "I'd like to know I have something when I'm an adult. That way I can decide what to do with my life and not need to get a job straight away."

Mrs Jones looked at Alex. "We'd love for you to continue working with us."

"That discussion is for another time. What we must discuss now, of course, is how much to pay Alex."

Mrs Jones spoke slowly. "Well, our other agents are paid according to their rank, skill, and how many missions they undertake."

Alex was interested. "So, if a high-ranking agent did just one mission, they would get paid more than a low-ranking agent who did two missions?"

"Yes. But, you must understand, Alex, that you don't have a rank – technically, you don't exist."

"We'll get him a rank. I think the time has come for Alex to become a full-fledged member of MI6."

Mrs Jones looked incredulously at Blunt. "What…?"

"Yes. You will have a badge, a salary, and an office. Maybe even, occasionally, a partner. I don't think you'd work as well with a partner, but sometimes it is necessary. Also, you will have tutors. We don't want you falling behind in class. If you want to continue working with us, you'll need excellent grades."

Now it was Alex's turn to be taken aback. An office? A badge? Perhaps Alan Blunt was human after all.

"So, how much money do I get?" Alex asked.

"We'll negotiate that later. Right now, you have to go home and prepare."

"Okay. So no one is allowed to know I've been to the SAS training grounds before, right?"

"Correct. Alex, it really is getting late."

"Yes. But I have one more request."

Mr Blunt looked at Alex warily. "What is it?"

"If I'm a member of MI6 now, does that mean I get a gun?"

Mrs Jones immediately began to say no, but Blunt interrupted her. "We'll see."

That was all Alex had been expecting. Nodding his head at both of them, he made his way out.

* * *

Going to school had always been fun for Alex. Learning new things, playing with friends… But now, it was a chore. He had no friends, and the rest of the students ostracised him. Except for Tom. But Tom wasn't here right now, was he?

"Hey, look guys," Matthew Parker laughed. "It's Alexis. He's come back from another stay in the hospital."

Alex sighed. It was a running joke of Matt's to call him Alexis. Apparently, it was supposed to highlight how 'fragile' and 'breakable' and 'girly' he was. Not very witty, but who would tell him that?

"Hello, Matt." Alex said warily, trying to make his way to the science labs.

"Where are you trying to go, huh? You gonna leave me here all alone? I don't think so."

Alex stood calmly where he was. He knew that he could beat Matt in a fight with his eyes closed. And Matt knew it too.

"You're so fucking queer, you know that?"

Alex did know that. The boys only told him so every other day. They were always poking jibes at him for being queer. It didn't help that they were right.

"What's going on here, boys?" Mr Donavon appeared out of nowhere.

"Nothing, sir."

"Hmmm. Get to class. Oh, and Alex, you have to go the principal's office."

"Yes, sir."

Alex had to stop himself from running out of the ugly school. What could the principal possibly want him for?

He made his way through the halls and into the secretary's office. The secretary, Miss Jane Bedfordshire, waved at him and pointed to the principal's door. She knew he was supposed to be there.

David Browning was the principal of Brookland. He had once taught at higher, more prestigious schools, but the education board had transferred him. He had been used to posh, well-mannered children, and was now confronted with rude, annoying brats who didn't know what pi was. Needless to say, he had had a bit of a culture shock.

"Ah. Alex. Come in, come in."

Alex walked into the office.

"Please, sit down."

It was hard to choose which chair to sit down in. One had a suspicious red stain on it; the other was mouldy and looked ready to break any second. He eventually chose the red-stained chair.

"So, Alex. You must be wondering why you're here."

Alex couldn't help but notice the similarities between this meeting and the one he had had with MI6.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, the fact of the matter is, you're in a bit of trouble."

"What kind of trouble, sir?"

"You see, Alex, I've been looking at the class register here, and it says you've been away quite a lot this year. In fact, you've been away more than anyone else in the school."

Alex was silent. How was he going to explain this? He could hardly tell him the real reason.

"Now, although your grades haven't slipped, I cannot allow this to go on. It will have to be dealt with. So, Alex, can you promise me that it won't happen again?"

Alex though for a second. Could he promise that? Not really. He was a member of MI6 now. There was no telling when he might be required to go on a mission.

"No, sir."

"Alex," Mr Browning sighed. "This might be easier if you told me _why_ you've been away."

"I've been sick."

"No, you haven't. Maybe everyone else will believe that, but I don't. Where have you been?" This time his voice was stronger, more forceful.

"I just told you, sir."

"Is it drugs? Are you addicted? We can't help you if you won't take the initiative, Alex."

"What? I'm not taking drugs!"

"The thing is, I think you might be. Some of your schoolmates have been complaining, and some are even scared of you."

Scared of him? Alex was dumbfounded. How could anyone be scared of him?

"I'm not taking drugs. I've been sick. You can check in with St Dominics. I stayed there for a while."

Mr Browning shook his head sadly. "Now I know you're lying. St Dominics is only for members of the government or military personnel." He sounded angry, and disappointed. "Why are you lying, Alex? Why are you being so difficult?"

Alex was feeling more and more boxed in. How was he going to get out of this mess?

"I'm not lying! I stayed at St Dominics—"

"And we also have witnesses who say you're violent."

"What?" Alex's voice was faint.

"We have recorded cases of you attacking other students. There are two boys who have confided in me that you harassed them, bullied them, and physically assaulted them behind the bike shed. They also said that this was not an isolated incident."

"I never did that!"

"Really? Did you meet them behind the bike shed?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"And did you harm any of them?"

"Yes! But they did it first—"

"There you have it." Mr Browning leaned back in his chair. "You have now proved, in your own words, that you assaulted another student. You realise you could be taken to court for this?"

Alex was lost for words. "I-I can't believe you!" He finally exploded. "Why the hell would I do any of those things?"

"I don't know, Alex. You tell me."

When Alex didn't answer, Mr Browning sighed. "I'm afraid I have no choice. You will have to be expelled."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"No. I'm not joking, Alex."

Alex struggled to keep his voice low. "Can I- can I have a second chance?"

"I don't know about that."

"Please?" Alex was grasping at straws.

"Well, there is a class trip coming up. Your class has been chosen for the test run of a new program designed to teach kids to protect themselves. Maybe I could let you go…" Alex waited anxiously for his decision. "Okay," he finally said. "But only because you used to be such a good student, Alex."

"Yes, sir."

"But remember – one toe out of line and you are gone, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now get back to class."

Alex left the office, his heart thudding in his chest and close to tears.

* * *

Assembly was a horrible affair. It was hard for Alex to sit down for the half-hour before school was over, when all he wanted to do was run home. The conversation with Mr Browning was still running through his mind. _Violent. People are scared of you._ Was that really true?

"…and now for a surprise announcement." The voice of the principal rang through the auditorium. "A new program has been designed to teach students self-defence. The students will take part in authentic SAS exercises, and learn alongside professional soldiers."

A general buzz of anticipation ran through the rows of students. "Our school has been chosen to test this new program. Unfortunately, only one class is allowed to go at a time. The first class will be 9B."

The noise got louder as the pupils of 9B gossiped excitedly with each other. Alex groaned. If only they knew. That place was hell on earth.

"Hey, Alex," A boy in his class was talking to him. "Are you gonna go?"

"I don't think we have a choice."

"That's too bad. Now you'll ruin it for the rest of us." The boy – John – and his friends laughed scornfully. "Don't worry, though, I'm sure they'll let you take _coke_ with you. Get it? _Coke?_"

Alex closed his eyes.

**Author's Notes:**

As I'm sure many of you have noticed, this story is about Alex and the rest of his class returning to the SAS camp. I know this isn't an original idea, but hopefully my version will have a few twists in it. You see, the focus of the story keeps shifting from Alex to K Unit. Also, K Unit find a book – Stormbreaker – and begin to read it. This idea has been done to death in the Harry Potter fandom (where I usually read) but as far as I know, no one has used it in Alex Rider fanfiction.

The style of writing may change a bit (when I shift focus) so please forgive me on that. And the updates for this story will be infrequent; I have other things to do (like study for my exams, which, by the way, I will totally fail). So sorry in advance.

Reviewing is good. Reviewing is appreciated. Reviewing is needed!

SO REVIEW.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

The sun filtered through the windows, casting pale shadows on the hardwood floor. Papers were ruffled as a cool breeze, let in by the open shutters, passed over them. A man sat silently, with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep. But he was awake when a knock was heard on the door.

"Come in," he said, softly.

A woman walked into the office. She was dressed in a rather masculine outfit; silk trousers with a white, stiff collared shirt that did nothing for her figure.

"He's dead." She spoke in an odd, clipped tone. Almost as if she wanted to get the words out quickly. "Shot on Cliffs Street."

The man – Alan Blunt – shifted in his chair. "I expected nothing less."

Mrs Jones turned around sharply, hiding the pain on her face. "He was my husband." She said this angrily. "Did you have to send him?"

Mr Blunt stared at her impassively. "He was the best man for the job."

She paced the room, furiously wiping tears from her eyes. "I thought so, too. Apparently he wasn't good enough. Stupid, clumsy man."

Alan Blunt regarded her with something that resembled disgust. "Get a hold of yourself," he said coldly. "If you can't keep your personal life separate from business matters, then go see a therapist."

She halted abruptly. Then, slowly, she made her way back to her chair. Her face was shuttered, any pain that was previously there hidden away under lock and key. "So, Alan, why exactly did you call this meeting?" she asked tightly.

"I received a message from Agent Blue. This was before he died, obviously." He paused. "It seems that we were wrong about Scorpia."

"Wrong?"

"Yes. They aren't planning to cause any form of civil unrest."

"What are they planning, then?"

"Something far more dangerous. They want to kill Alex."

She was confused. "How is this more dangerous?"

He sighed. "Because, the only way they can kill Alex is if they know where he is. And to know that, they have to infiltrate MI6."

Mrs Jones tapped her nails against the desk. "That's not good."

"No. It means we might have a traitor in our ranks right now."

"So what do we do?"

"Nothing. For the moment, all we can do is wait."

"Do we warn him?"

Blunt considered this for a moment. "I don't think so," he said slowly. "It would only scare him."

"I don't think Alex is ever scared."

Blunt looked at Mrs Jones amusedly. "I think you might be wrong. Every fourteen year old is scared."

"Alex isn't fourteen, Alan. He's much older. He has to be."

"If you say so." Blunt stood up, walking over to the cabinet situated at the far end of the room. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a thick folder. "Here's the file you were asking for."

"Thankyou."

"Now, do you want some dinner?"

* * *

Alex was annoyed. Not only was he blindfolded, but he was also being led to the training grounds by, it seemed, an incompetent fool. Was it really necessary to walk through so much mud? He didn't hear anyone else wading through ankle-deep water. And what about the fact that he was gagged with what tasted like a sock?

He bit down on a frustrated yell. Once again, his guide had managed to step on his shoe. Were these people really qualified SAS members?

Alex sighed, wanting nothing more than to be back home. But that wasn't possible. He had signed a contract, after all. After that disastrous day at school, all the students in 9B had been given parental consent forms. Alex had taken his to MI6, and they had told him they would take care of it. They had kept their word; for the next day Alex had been sent off, with the rest of his class, to the SAS training grounds.

Just remembering that journey was enough to make him shiver. Three hours travelling over rocky ground, in a bus full of flatulent teenagers. Every time they had driven over a pothole, Alex's head had hit the roof. Then another two hours on a jet boat, going against the wind. Luckily, Alex didn't get seasick (his 'holidays' with Ian Rider had cured that), but unfortunately others in his class weren't so lucky. The smell of vomit and what had been someone's lunch was disgusting.

And then, when they had finally reached the port, they were met by an SAS officer.

"I'm Gull," he'd said. "I don't have a name. Not to you." He spoke harshly, almost spitting the words out of his mouth. "I'm here to take you all to the SAS grounds. It's a top secret place, so you'll have to be blindfolded and gagged. No talking to anyone. So sorry for the inconvenience." He added, not looking sorry at all. "Oh, and if you so much as _try_ to remove the blindfold, well..." He smiled, a truly terrifying sight. "Let's just say it'll be worse than an afternoon detention."

True to his word, they had been gagged and deprived of sight, then led for what seemed like hours on a gruelling hike. For the first part of the journey Alex had been fine. He was fit, so the walking was no problem. His guide had also been well-trained, leading him very carefully through the woods (were they woods? He couldn't be sure). But now… This guide seemed to hate him, making sure to step in every puddle, ditch, and bog he could find. After a few hours, Alex was wet, tired and angry.

"We're here. Take off your blindfolds."

Alex gratefully complied. His eyes were red and blurry, and he could see other students rubbing their eyes. He looked around himself curiously. They were in what appeared to be a tropical forest, with unfamiliar trees and foliage everywhere. But that was impossible. There were no forests in this part of Britain.

"Follow me." The command was softly spoken, but everyone hastened to obey. Trudging through the unknown location, they headed west. Soon, they came to a cranny in the rock. Gull placed his hands on the rock face, muttering under his breath about "stupid security precautions". Amazingly, the rock slid away, revealing a tunnel. Alex was just as surprised as the others. This wasn't how he had arrived at the SAS training grounds, was it? But then he remembered. He had been unconscious when they had brought him here. For all he knew, they could have beamed him up in a spaceship.

Gull walked on, ignoring the astonished whispers of the students. After a few minutes, they reached a door. Gull turned around, and said, "We've arrived."

As soon as the door opened, Alex was confronted with the all-too-familiar sight of the SAS training grounds. The forest had given way to countryside; dotted with large cabins, Alex knew, that were used for sleeping and storage. The mess hall was situated in the centre of the grounds. It was here that Gull took them, telling them to stay seated until the Sergeant arrived.

Arrive he did. And Alex wasn't happy to see him.

As usual, his bulk preceded him. Not to say he was unfit; in fact, that was very far from the truth; but he commanded a _presence_, and it filled the entire room. The harsh lines of his face were set in a deep frown. Alex sighed. Great. He was in a bad mood.

"Maggots," he spat. "What were they thinking, sending me _maggots?_" Alex looked around him. Nearly every face was filled with fear. "So you're here for training, are you?"

No one replied.

"Well. The barracks, where you'll sleep, are over that way." He pointed vaguely to the left. "And you all eat here, in the mess hall. Remember to keep your bunks clean. Or you might wake up to a few snakes in your bed." A few people laughed nervously. "It wasn't a joke," he added, smiling menacingly. "Anyway, activities begin tomorrow, so be ready and waiting at sunrise. Get your packs from this pile over here. Then get your scrawny little backsides over to the cabins." When everyone didn't move immediately, his face darkened. "I said, get your packs!"

Alex was nearly bowled over by the mad rush that followed this announcement. Someone pushed him, and he fell, hitting the ground with a loud thud. He heard laughter, and took a minute to place it as Matthew Parker's. As he was getting to his feet, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Don't get clumsy, boy." The sergeant's voice was a growl. "We have don't have room for idiots here—" His voice cut off abruptly when he saw who he was talking to. He recovered quickly. "What's your name, boy?" he asked roughly.

"Alex Rider, sir."

"Rider, huh?" The sergeant's voice had risen, and the rest of Alex's class turned to see what was going on. "Were you born with this previously unknown foot disease? Or did you catch it from the buffoons that surround you?" There was a smattering of laughter, and Alex didn't have to force the flush that came to his face.

"No, sir."

"Well, I suppose you did it on purpose then, didn't you?"

Alex knew there was no point in arguing.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know what the punishment for terminal stupidity is, Rider?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued on. "I'll tell you. It's a week's duty of cleaning the mess hall. That means you stay after every meal to wash up." Looking around at the sea of smirking faces staring at him, he shouted, "Well? What are you lot standing around for? Get to the cabins!"

When they were alone, Sergeant began pacing the room. "Why don't they tell me these things…?" he was muttering. "Cause a lot of trouble…going to have to brief all soldiers…" Finally he turned to Alex. "Cub."

Alex nodded. "Sir."

The sergeant stood still for a moment. His eyes flickered up and down Alex's body, lingering for a moment on the baggy, comfortable clothing that Alex had chosen for the journey. Grumbling under his breath, he said, "Take off your shirt."

"What?" Alex was surprised, and the prospect of removing his clothing made him nervous. He hadn't been going to his karate classes, because of his bullet wound. He was sure there would be flab on his stomach.

"Are you deaf, boy? Take off your shirt. If you had been wearing tight clothing, I wouldn't need to do this."

Alex understood what he meant. Sergeant needed to check how fit he was – the best way was to have a check up, of course – but excess fat on the body would also be sufficient. Groaning slightly, Alex pulled off his shirt. He stood, fidgeting, as the sergeant looked over every inch of his skin, searching for any sign of injury or fat. His eyes widened when he saw the tell-tale sign of a bullet wound. Alex mentally kicked himself. He had forgotten about that.

"What's this?" he asked sharply.

"A bullet wound." Alex said warily.

"I know that, Cub" His voice was cold. "Where did you get it?"

"I can't tell you that, sir. Classified information."

The sergeant looked angry for a moment, then he nodded resignedly. "Of course. Classified. How long has it been since the shot?"

"Five months."

"That should be enough to heal. What did the doctors say?"

"They said I was fine."

"That means you can still participate in the activities," he said. "In fact, it means you can participate in higher-level activities. Since you know everything that we're teaching the rest of the maggots, you can join in with the soldiers."

Alex groaned. Of course he would be put with the soldiers. He should have lied, and told him that the wound was new. Then at least he could have done easy activities.

"Yes, sir."

"Now go. Get out of here."

* * *

Alex walked into his cabin. He looked around at the boys sitting on the beds. Ignoring the raised eyebrows, he climbed onto the only available bunk and began unpacking his things. As he placed the last of the clothes in the small dresser, he heard a happy shout. "Alex!"

He turned around. Tom Harris, his best friend, was standing there. Alex felt a momentary burst of happiness. Tom had been sick for the past few days, and Alex was glad he had made it to the camp. "What are you doing here?" he asked, with a smile.

"I finally got better!" Tom exclaimed. "They let me come on a helicopter. The landing pad is so huge!"

Alex faked a look of anger. "We had to walk _all_ the way here. First a bus, then a boat, then a hike…"

"I guess this means they like me better."

They held each other's gaze for a moment, then burst out in laughter. Alex spoke first, still chuckling, "Really, Tom. It wasn't even that funny. We're so pathetic."

"I know. Just look at the expressions on these guys' faces."

Alex looked around. Indeed, the rest of the boys were staring at them with looks of such shock; it was almost comical. It seemed they couldn't quite believe that Alex could even laugh, let alone laugh with a _friend_.

"Oh, look, it's Alexis and his pet dog."

Tom looked at Matt curiously. "Oh, look, it's trying to speak. I always thought dirt was incapable of speech." He glanced at Alex. "Well, I guess that shows how much _I _know."

Alex smiled gratefully. He could take care of himself, but he preferred to just ignore what the others said about him. And plus, it added to his cover of being – and it still hurt to say it – a drug addict. No one would ever suspect him for what he was.

Matt growled hatefully, "Do you _want_ to get beaten or something, Harris?"

"I don't think he does. Not really." Alex said. "But it looks like you do. After all, why else would you be insulting him?"

Even Matt knew when to back down. Alex's voice had carried a trace of threat, and everyone knew how well Alex fought.

"What, you gonna set your druggo friends on me?"

Tom stared at Alex. "What friends?" he asked carefully.

"His druggy friends," Matt seemed to find great delight in explaining. "You know, the ones he sells to."

"Alex isn't a drug addict."

"You wanna bet?" Matt jumped off his bunk, and reached for Alex's bag. "I bet we'll find coke in here," he said.

Alex stayed seated. He knew there was nothing incriminating in the bag. It was best to let Matt satisfy his curiosity – at least he'd show everyone there were no drugs in his bag.

"Ah ha!" Matt shouted gleefully. "Look at this! It's not coke – it's pot!"

Silence. That was all that could be heard in the cabin. Everyone was staring at the little packet in shock, Alex included. Tom slowly turned to Alex.

"Did you put that in there, Alex?" His voice was tight. Alex knew why he was so angry; Tom's parents had split primarily because his father had drug problems. Tom had always had a low opinion of anyone who took drugs – he had told Alex himself.

"No. No I didn't." His voice was firm. Apparently, MI6 had at least taught him to adapt to new situations quickly.

This was enough for Tom. "There you go," he said to Matt. "Alex said he didn't put it there, and I believe him. Oh, I suggest you don't take this to the sergeant."

Matt was smiling evilly. "Of course I'm going to take it to the sergeant," he said. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because," Alex broke in, "They might do a fingerprint check. And if they do that, they're going to know who put the bag there." Here he looked meaningfully at Matt. "We wouldn't want that to happen, now would we?"

Matt paled. "Of course not," he stuttered.

"Good." Alex smiled. "Now we're in perfect agreement." He didn't care if he looked particularly threatening at that moment. All of a sudden he felt angry and fed up with the world. Why did this have to happen to him?

That night, as Alex lay in bed, he thought of his parents, and what they might have been like.

* * *

Alex woke up a few minutes before sunrise. He immediately got up and began to put on his army-regulation clothes. The combat trousers and shirt fitted properly, this time. Then he shook Tom awake.

"What?" Tom murmured. "Give me five more minutes."

"Get up," Alex hissed. "The soldiers will _be_ here in five minutes."

As Tom struggled with his uniform, Alex deliberated whether or not to wake the rest of the boys. He eventually decided to, because if the sergeant came in and found them asleep, they would all be punished.

As expected, Matt gave him trouble, but he shut up quickly when he was told he had only three minutes to change. By the time the sun had risen, Alex's group were clothed and ready, waiting for whoever came to check in on them.

Unfortunately, it was Fox. He was exactly as Alex remembered him – tall, blonde, with a handsome face. It also looked as though the sergeant hadn't gotten around to telling him about Alex, because as soon as he walked in and saw 'Cub', his face morphed first into a look of shock, then confusion, then delight. Seeing the delight made Alex shudder. Whatever made this man happy was _not_ going to be good.

"Hello, my lovely little friends," he said cheerfully. "How are you all this morning?"

The boys looked at him in confusion.

"Your name is group D," he said. "So, group D, let us begin the wonderful adventure which is SAS!"

It was safe to say that no one greeted this proclamation with the enthusiasm that Fox had been expecting. In fact, they looked downright horrified.

"Well aren't you all grumble-bums," he laughed. It was not a nice laugh, either. It was a mad laugh – the laugh of an insane man. "I guess you'll all have to do extra work today. Like, _washing the dishes!"_

Matt squinted up at him. "But, Mr, uh,"

"Oh, forgive me. My name is Fox."

"But Mr Fox, sir, Rider here is already on clean-up duty."

Alex cursed the boy. Now Fox was giving him the look a tiger gives it prey. "Is he really, now?"

"Yes, sir," Matt said eagerly. "He got it because he was being rude—"

"Well," Fox cut him off. "I'll go and talk to the sergeant. After all, it wouldn't be fair if _you_ had to do the work _he_ was supposed to be doing, would it?"

"No, sir." Matt was grinning.

"In fact, I think I'll give him _double_ the workload. How about you meet me in the mess hall after we've finished, Rider?"

Alex sighed. "Yes, sir."

Perhaps it was the fact that Alex had called him 'sir'. Perhaps it was the fact that a fly had just buzzed past his ear. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because the voices in his head had just told him a particularly funny joke. Because whatever the reason, Fox started laughing a truly horrifying laugh that didn't stop even as they walked out of the door and to the mess hall.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Here's the next chapter. The next update will not be as quick, as I have an exam tomorrow (and I didn't study!). Hope you like it…

REVIEWING IS NEEDED FOR SURVIVAL.

BE A HUMANITARIAN AND SAVE A LIFE – REVIEW!!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

**Author's notes: Ugh. This is what happens when you don't have at least half the story written before you post. Unfortunately, my dear readers, I have somehow stumbled upon a problem. You see, I wrote the first chapter of the 'SAS-read-Stormbreaker' plotline, and guess what? IT DOSEN'T FIT THE STORY. It appears that, according to my sister, it is a "weak chapter that has too much of a different writing style to be included in 'Coke, Pot, and Other Things'". **

_**Are you kidding me?**_

**Apparently, she wasn't. Now I've decided to use that storyline in another, separate story. So sorry for the absolute lack of originality that this story (now) possesses.  
**

**Ugh.

* * *

**

The sun was low on the horizon when a car pulled up outside _Jacques_, the posh new restaurant located in Las Vegas. The blinking lights and tacky facades that were characteristic of the city were not present here; this was a new, more refined suburb. Many of _Jacques'_ regular customers were influential businessmen, politicians, or the extremely rich. Reservations were required weeks in advance. Hundreds were forked over just for a dinner. Even a glass of water cost upwards of $60, depending on the distillation.

So naturally, when a beautiful woman dressed in burgundy silk stepped out of a Porsche, there wasn't much interest. Just another customer; another snobby lady with millions to spare. So she walked undisturbed across the marble floors, and through the revolving glass doors. She reached the expansive reception hall. Allowing a man to remove her coat, she made her way towards the reservation counter.

"Good evening, Miss Black."

The receptionist had been previously briefed; she knew exactly who was coming in, what they would look like, and how many people they would bring with them. This system had been put into place to help the diners feel comfortable – using names and titles to help familiarise them with _Jacques._

"Good evening," Miss Black replied, a bit stiffly. "Has my associate arrived?"

"Yes ma'am. Please allow one of our staff to escort you to your seat."

A man appeared out of the shadows, dressed in the black and white colours of the restaurant. He led Miss Black to the elevator, explaining on the way, "Your associate is on the third floor, ma'am. In one of our private suites."

Third floor dining was the most expensive, but it was well worth it. Only the finest foods were served here. The floors were adorned with Persian rugs, and the walls decorated with artworks by masters like Van Gogh and Monet. There was a gallery as well, with an uninterrupted view of the lower floors. Diners could look through the one-way glass and gloat, without compromising their privacy. It was a place for the best of the best; the billionaires of the world.

Miss Black was escorted to the seclusion of a private suite, far away from the other diners. She thanked the guide, then, taking a deep breath, she walked into the room.

Mr Antonio De'Rosetto was sitting at the far end of the suite. His black hair was perfectly placed; every strand gelled back to absolute perfection. His eyes were cold as he looked at Julia Thornton – or, as she was known today – Miss Black.

"Miss Black," he said. "It is a pleasure, as always."

"And you, Mr Dezeré," her voice was toneless. She sat down in one of the lavishly upholstered seats. "I take it you have ordered?"

"I took the liberty of ordering for both of us," he said, smiling coldly. "The food should be here in a few minutes."

"Thank you." They sat in silence for a few minutes. Miss Black removed a mobile phone from her purse. "I'm getting a bit bored, Mr Dezeré," she explained as she opened the games program. "Not very ladylike, but then again, nobody's perfect."

She opened the games interface. Scrolling down, she chose 'BugZap!'. The screen came up. The menu gave three choices – _Play Game, Load Game, _or _Bonus Round._ She chose _Bonus Round_. A box came up asking for a password. She typed it in, and smiled as the game finally started.

BugZap! was an insanely easy game. All that was required to win was to zap the bugs which began appearing and reappearing on the screen. There was always a 'room' in which the bugs would be killed – a different room for each level. In this instance, the room was L-shaped, with only three bugs blipping on the screen. Miss Black moved her cursor towards one of them and clicked. There was a whirring sound as the bug was killed. She repeated the exercise with the other two bugs. That was it. Nothing more.

Hundreds of kilometres away, on the other side of the Atlantic, six MI6 operatives cursed as their only form of communication with Scorpia was destroyed.

Miss Black smiled. "Finally, Antonio, we can begin our discussion. You did carry out the usual checks, didn't you?" She asked the last question sharply, only just remembering.

"Of course I did. Video surveillance, traps… They weren't that sophisticated, if I do say so myself."

"MI6 must have been short of time," Miss Black mused. "Or else, they seem to be losing skill."

"Yes. Killing Agent Blue _was_ rather easy, wasn't it?"

"Don't gloat, Antonio." Even so, her mouth curved into a reluctant smile. "What do you suppose he was thinking, walking _half-asleep_ around the city?"

"I don't think we'll ever know." There was a pause. "Now, down to business."

Miss Black nodded. "Did you place our agent with Rider?"

"Yes. Agent X has already stirred up some trouble. Putting drugs in Rider's bag. It will only be a few weeks before Agent X knows all that is necessary and kills him."

"Good. Tell Agent X to make sure it is painful. Very painful."

Antonio nodded. "I will."

"What about the assassins we sent to kill the Prime Minister?"

"It worked. The government is working like crazy to try and hush it up. In a few days, everything will be chaos."

"And then we will strike,"

Mr De'Rosetto smiled cruelly. "And then we will strike."

* * *

Alex walked into the mess hall with the rest of his group. As they were walking through the doors, Tom turned to Alex. "I've go to go to the toilet," he said.

Alex looked at him oddly. "Yeah. Okay. I'm fine with that."

Tom nodded gratefully and turned to leave. Alex was still wondering over the incident as he sat down at a table. Why would Tom ask permission? Alex shook his head. It was best to just think about something else. As it turned out, that wasn't very hard.

Groups of people were walking into the mess hall, but none of them sat with Alex. Looking at everyone pass him by without a second glance, Alex realised that, without Tom, he had nobody. Nobody at all. But then Tom came back, and everything was fine again.

"I can't wait to eat," Tom said cheerfully. "I'm starved!"

Alex groaned as he remembered the quality of the food. "It might be better if you _did_ starve."

"Quiet, you lot!"

Alex looked at the sergeant. He was standing near the back of the room, talking with Fox. Fox looked up every now and then, and pointed excitedly towards Alex. Alex had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't about anything good.

"You'll be served your food in a minute," the sergeant said. "But let me get things straight – you'll eat what you're given. You'll need the strength, and we won't be serving special orders for anyone. Oh, and Rider," The sergeant looked straight at Alex. "Fox has told me that you were being rude."

The students of 9B sneered at Alex. Some of the WAGGWLBB (We Are Good Girls Who Like Bad Boys) shared a secret smile. They thought that every time Alex 'misbehaved' it was proof of the tortured soul he apparently hid beneath a cold and unwelcoming exterior. They harboured thoughts of being 'the one'; of being able to change Alex into a sensitive, caring young man. Alex, of course, was largely unaware of this. He knew there were some girls who acted oddly when he got near them, but thought nothing of it. In fact, when a pretty young girl in his class had fallen into his arms, moaning in a low voice, "Oh, _Alex,_ I feel so _sick_," he had told her, "Yes. You look it. Maybe you should eat more. You really are too thin." And another time, a girl from 9C had been skating across the boardwalk. She wasn't very good, and had fallen straight to the ground. Alex had walked up to her, asking, "Are you alright?"

Her face immediately showed delight, then quickly changed into an expression of pain. "I'm afraid I'm not very good," she said, clutching her ankle. "I need someone to teach me how to do this." Alex had answered slowly. "You know, maybe you should practise. Just a thought."

Needless to say, Alex wasn't very 'in the know' about the WAGGWLBB.

So, with the girls swooning and the boys sneering, Alex wasn't very happy. He wasn't _angry;_ not really. He was just annoyed that the soldiers singled him out every time they saw him.

"As a punishment for this display of vulgarity, you will serve everyone food, for the next two weeks."

Alex sighed with relief. The program lasted for a total of two months – he wasn't sure if he could have handled having to serve everyone – like a servant – for the entire time he was here. At least two weeks would pass quickly.

Pretending to be upset, Alex got up and walked to the counter. "What do I do?" His voice sounded appropriately pathetic.

"Put on an apron, and a hairnet, then serve."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alex was laughing. A hairnet! He would look like a right idiot, wearing that. _But_, he reasoned, _it's not like it actually matters. I mean, I know I'm better than them. I've saved the world, for crying out loud. Even if they laugh,_ (and he knew they would), _I'm still safe. They're just a bunch of moronic losers. _

With this firmly in mind, he tied on the apron, fastened the hairnet, then started doling out food. Even though he was repeating _Better than them. Better than them…_ in his mind, he still felt a touch of embarrassment and humiliation as he placed the plates in front of gloating students. Matt was particularly difficult.

"You are _such_ a freak," he sniggered. "You belong in a zoo."

Alex stared at him impassively. Then he leant down and whispered into Matt's ear, "I'd like to see things from your point of view – really, I would. But I just can't seem to get my head that far up my arse." Smirking at the furious look on Matt's face, he began to walk away. But Matt wasn't going to take defeat lying down. No. Of course not. At the last minute, he leaned over and stuck his foot out. Alex had seen the leg coming, and tried to swerve away, but the tray he was holding slowed his movements. Alex came crashing down, managing to avoid getting splattered by flying bits of food. _This is the second time I've been tripped up by Matthew Parker,_ he thought angrily. He got up, and was about to turn around and thoroughly kill Matt when he saw the man in front of him.

_Oh, shit._

Wolf was standing in front of him, covered from head to toe in the disgusting goop that passed for food in the SAS training grounds. His face was rapidly darkening, and his eyes were raging with fury. But some of his anger was replaced with shock when he saw who it was. Then that too disappeared. Wolf truly was a master at adapting to new situations.

"Boy," His voice was barely more than a growl. Alex winced. "What the _fuck_ do you think you just did?"

"Um…" Alex played the part of a terrified boy perfectly. "S-sir, I was just s-serving the food… I think I t-tripped."

"You _think_?" Wolf's voice was low – so low, in fact, that the others had to crane their necks forward to hear it. "You want to know what _I _think? _I _think that I've found a new victim – sorry, _volunteer_, for the job of _latrine cleaner._"

"L-latrine c-cleaner?"

"Yes." Wolf nodded slowly. "We need someone to clean the outdoor toilets – no one else seems to want it, I'm afraid. I have absolutely _no idea_ why."

"Y-yes, s-sir."

"Report for duty tomorrow at 4.00 a.m. sharp."

"Yes, s-sir."

Alex watched Wolf walk back outside, furiously wiping protein shake off his shoulders. Then Alex saw his classmates – they were looking at him rather disbelievingly. For a moment, he was confused. Then it hit him. Of course. They thought he was a gangster/criminal/drug-addict. His 'I'm just a poor lost boy' act had confused them. Alex groaned. This would not have been a problem back at school, but here, at the SAS training grounds, it was too easy for them to get suspicious and accidentally find some information. He fervently hoped Wolf knew he was under cover. Otherwise, what he was about to do could earn him a one-way trip to hell.

"Hey - Wolfman!"

Wolf turned around slowly. He stood there, looking menacing. Alex gulped.

"How tall are you?"

Wolf gave a small smile – a sort of smile that said, _Are you for real, kid?_ He looked fascinated, as if he wanted to see where this led. "I'm 6'3. Why?" His voice was loud, and reverberated through the room.

Alex gave him his best 'I'm stoned' look. "I didn't know they stacked shit that high."

Silence.

_I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm so dead… _

"Excuse me?" Every word was spat out with menace. "What did you say?"

"Oh, so you're deaf _and_ ugly… no wonder you can't get a date." Every instinct Alex possessed was telling him to shut up and run for it, but he forced himself to stay. "In fact, you're like an egg. You only got laid once and that was by your mum."

Wolf growled, "Why don't you come over here and say that?"

"I would…but I'm a little homophobic."

Wolf started to make his way towards him. He was practically spitting fire. "Quit it, kid. I'm going to make your life miserable…"

"By the way, can I borrow your face for a few days? My arse is going on holiday."

_Dear God. I hope you take care of Jack. And Tom, too. And I hope Scorpia doesn't take over the world._

"RIDER," the sergeant's voice boomed through the hall. "YOU ARE HEREBY ON EVERY SINGLE PUNISHMENT DUTY IMAGINABLE! I WILL PERSONALLY MAKE YOUR LIFE A LIVING HELL! DON'T THINK I WON'T SEND YOU BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM, BOY."

"Of course you will," Alex soothed, cooing in a baby-like voice. "I'm sure you're brave enough."

The Sergeant looked dumbfounded. He had probably never been insulted before. "Are you implying that I'm a coward?"

"No, sir. I'm sure you're very brave and courageous. After all, you have to face yourself in the mirror every day."

* * *

Alex sat in the room, mentally cataloguing everything he owned and deciding who he would give it to. _I knew I should have written a will…_

The doors were barred and there were no windows. He was sitting on the bare cement floor, his back aching unbearably. He had been here for three hours. There was no light, and he couldn't see more than five metres away from his face.

Alex heard a creaking sound and covered his eyes as the door opened. The harsh sunlight was hard to bear after so many hours in the dark. He could just make out a shadowy figure – Wolf. He groaned.

"What do you have to say for yourself, boy?" Wolf was visibly restraining himself from punching him. "You stupid, worthless little…"

"I'm sorry." Alex thought it would be best if he got to the facts straight away. "But I had to do it. I was under cover."

"Under cover as what? A crazed drug-addict?" Wolf's voice was sharp.

"Yes," Alex sighed. "It's not the best choice, I know. But it wasn't really up to me. The people just assumed—"

"Just shut it, Cub." Wolf stood for a second, simply looking at him. Then he sighed. "I'm not going to ask why you're here, or why people think you're a drug addict. I'll just say this – if anything like that ever happens again, I'll personally tan your hide." His voice was still cold; Alex doubted that Wolf would ever like him.

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now, I have some information to give you. Since all the maggots think you're doing punishment duties, they won't be expecting you to arrive at most of their training sessions. We'll make use of that. You will do activities with the soldiers – gun training, survival training… Basically everything you couldn't do on your last visit. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"And it seems that MI6 has sent an operative down here, to teach you all about… Actually, I don't know what they'll teach you – highly classified. Got it?"

"Yes, sir.

"Now, for god's sakes, get out of here."

"Yes, sir." Alex scrambled for the door, almost falling over in his rush to get out of the dreaded cell. He walked towards the cabins, breathing deeply, savouring the fresh air. Alex reached the cabins and cautiously opened the door.

Matt was sitting on his bunk, hungrily devouring a chocolate bar. Harry and Sam were huddled together, presumably playing some card game. And Tom was pacing the room, nervously biting his nails. They all jumped up as soon as they heard the creak of the door opening.

"Well, well, well… If it isn't Alexis, all back from the land of the damned." Matt sneered.

Alex ignored him. He sat down next to Tom. "I am _so_ tired," he said. "The stupid cell they put me in was _horrible_."

Tom laughed. "And you deserved it, too. I can't believe you said that!"

"Neither can I," Alex admitted. "But he was making me _so mad_. I had to let it out somehow…"

"Maybe you should take anger management classes." Sam's voice cut through the laughter. "Because I know more than one person was disgusted by your little display there, Rider."

Alex looked at Sam curiously. He didn't know much about him – just that his parents were extremely rich. Sam always had the latest fashions and electronics; mobile phones, iPods, laptops… He had arrived at Brookland two months ago. The school was divided on whether to grovel at his feet and hope that he would give them gifts, or whether to hate his rude and snobbish attitude. But Sam was actually quite tame when compared to Matt.

Before Alex could reply, the door opened and Fox came in, his evil smile indicating something very, very bad. "Hello, little ones," he said. His eyes travelled to Alex. "That was a brave thing you did today, C—Maggot." He stumbled briefly on the words. "Although it got you into a lot of trouble. I salute you for being the first ever known being to insult Wolf to his face."

Alex didn't know what to say.

"Anyway… Everyone has to go to the mess hall. Hurry up, now."

* * *

"You will all be participating in a test." The sergeant's voice boomed through the hall. "It is designed to show us how fit you are, what your mental capabilities are, and if you have any common sense. We don't expect any of you to finish," he said, his eyes flickering briefly to Alex. "The test is far too advanced for that. It is meant for trained soldiers, not schoolchildren. But we _do_ expect to see some sort of reason behind your choices. Anyone who can't hold up will be placed in separate training group – we don't want you to hinder the progress of other, more capable students." He looked at the students disdainfully. "If there are any."

Alex was interested. This test sounded difficult. After five months of lazing around, he was eager to begin another 'mission', so to speak.

"The test will be performed in pairs. I will assign them." Groans were heard throughout the room, only to be silenced moments later by the sergeant's thunderous glare. "Do not complain," he growled. "I promise you, there will be much to complain about later." He paused. "The testing will last for a period of two days or more. If you are not actively participating in the test, then I suggest you do some physical training. Our facilities are available to you, of course."

Alex knew he would not be using the facilities offered by the SAS. The evil smirk that graced Fox's lips was warning enough. From the quickly averted eyes and fearful looks of the other students, he knew they agreed with him.

"Unfortunately, there must always be someone who goes first. And I'm afraid that this time it will be Elsie Munt and George Daniels."

George looked terrified. Elsie, however, was sure of herself as she stepped up to the sergeant and spoke, "I think that what you are doing is unfair. How are we supposed to pass this test?"

"You can't. I already told you, it's impossible."

Elsie's face lit up with determination. "I'm going pass it," she said. "After all, how hard can it be?"

Elsie Munt was a serious athlete. She thought she was the bright light of the school, always winning competitions and being the best at everything she tried her hand at. It was quite annoying, actually. She acted condescendingly towards other people; treating them as if she was superior. Which, in a way, she was.

The sergeant smiled cruelly. "If you say so," he said. "Just go through this door, and someone will explain everything to you."

Elsie and George passed through the door.

* * *

Alex and Tom were sitting with the rest of the class in the centre of the hall. They had been there for two hours.

"Ugh," Tom groaned. "How much longer will they take?"

"I don't know." Alex paused, cocking his head to one side. "Actually, I think that's them now."

People started getting up cautiously, eager to catch a glimpse of their classmates. What they saw was not pleasant.

Elsie was limping through the door, her face pale and drawn. George, the poor boy, looked close to tears. Both of them had mud all over their clothes, along with an assortment of various bruises and scrapes. Elsie even had a long gash running down the side of her face. Blood was mingling with tears as she tried, and failed, to hold back sobs. "How could you?" she asked, gasping. "How could you…?"

"Bring in first aid," the sergeant said crisply. He turned to a soldier – with a shock, Alex realised it was Eagle – and asked, "Have you cleared up the area?"

"Yes. Everything is clean." Eagle spoke slowly, showing no emotion. Alex found himself wondering, with slight apprehension, what exactly they had cleaned. Was it water? Blood?

"Good. We'll begin the next test."

For the rest of the day, students were called out in pairs and asked to begin the test. They always left with the same single-minded determination, and they always came back broken and bloodied. The times varied – some completed it in half an hour, others took three hours. By the time Tom left, everyone was in hysterics.

Tom paused amid the general pleads of "Please don't make me, sir!" and turned to Alex.

"I'm sorry I'm not with you," he said softly. Tom was partnered with a boy called Harry Thompson. "Who are you going to go with? There are only four people left, and I'm pretty sure the sergeant is putting them in pairs."

"I don't know," Alex answered truthfully. "I guess they have some sort of plan."

Tom nodded, and smiling slightly, he said, "Wish me luck." He walked away.

"The rest of you will be taking your tests tomorrow," the sergeant spoke after a few minutes. "Remember; don't ask anyone who's finished the test _anything_ at all. Or else, I swear, there _will_ be trouble."

* * *

The new day dawned cold and gloomy. Alex had spent the night uncomfortably, tossing and turning in bed, wondering what the test was about. It was ridiculous, he knew – he had faced far worse danger before. At least in this mission he knew he wouldn't die. But Alex still felt the other's eyes boring into his back, especially Tom's. Before falling asleep, Tom had asked Alex quietly, "How can you do that all the time? As a _job_?" He had refused to elaborate further, simply sliding under the covers and closing his eyes. The bandage that covered his head taunted Alex, helping him dream up nightmarish stories about times long past. Alex had relived his time with Dr Grief three times during the night, before he managed to wake up.

After getting dressed and eating breakfast, the sergeant began yesterday's routine all over again. Name after name was called, until only Alex remained. He stood, watching the others. They looked at him with oddly blank eyes. Only Matt looked amused – he sneered at him, "Poor little Alexis is never gonna survive."

Alex ignored him, choosing instead to walk through the dreaded door.

He was in a small room. The walls were painted a dull brown colour, and everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. Wolf sat behind a circular desk, a thick file in his hands. Eagle, Snake and Fox were standing near another door, towards the end of the room.

"Sit down." Wolf sounded tired. He handed the file to Alex. It read: MISSION 691. HOSTAGES IN DANGER.

"You know that the Special Operations division of MI6 send their agents here," Wolf said. "This means that we've had to design hundreds of fake missions, intended to test SAS recruits and MI6 agents – both. It just so happens that this particular mission – Mission 691 – was designed by MI6, although we've been using it as well."

Eagle took over. "You have to complete this mission," he said, confirming Alex's suspicions. "And not get killed in the process."

"Have the others been doing Mission 691, too?"

Snake scowled. "No. They've been doing Mission 003. And I still think we should have made them stop at Checkpoint One," he said, to Wolf this time. "The little maggots think they can handle anything – and then, halfway through the second phase, they begin crying and telling us they're going to sue."

Funnily enough, Alex wasn't bothered by this comment. He was getting the usual rush – the one that always came with missions. Scared, excited, nervous – all the emotions were jumbled up together. Alex opened the file.

CLASSIFIED

MISSION BRIEFING:

FOR AGENTS

MISSION PLAN: _Three hostages have been taken by the terrorist group Gangalad. The agent must successfully locate and rescue them within a time limit of two hours. _

ADDITIONAL IMFORMATION:

_The hostages are being held somewhere in the R——— Forest of Britain. It is up to the agent to pinpoint their exact location._

_Gangalad's headquarters are armed. The agent must be warned that there may be guns, bombs, or other weapons._

_The agent will not be supplied with any gadgets._

_The hostages are not to be harmed. Any injuries on their person will automatically lower the result of the agent._

Alex raised his eyebrows. Fox explained, "It's designed to look exactly like a real mission briefing."

"Anyway," Wolf said. "Here's your map. You have five minutes to get ready, then you'll be leaving."

Alex folded the map and put it in his pocket. "Is Gangalad a real terrorist group?" he asked curiously.

Wolf looked at Fox. Fox smiled, then said, "Of course. Although I assure you, the real thing is a _lot_ worse. I should know."

* * *

Alex carefully brushed away the heavy leaf that had fallen across his face, not wanting to feel its sting again. A few minutes before, he had made the mistake of whipping it away from him. It had swung back with terrible force, lashing at his face and causing blood to drip down – Alex had discovered, too late, that it was spiked. He was still nursing his wound as he walked across the forest floor, searching for any sign of a dirt path.

The map showed that there was supposed to be a path here – one that went on for 10 kilometres. Alex knew that if he wanted to make it in time he would have to run. But he couldn't find it! Precious seconds were ticking away and Alex didn't want to fail. The very thought of failure was unbearable.

In frustration, he kicked out at a rock and was startled when it toppled over. With growing relief, he looked at what he had thought to be a sheer rock wall. The rocks were very light – they were man made. _I wonder what they're made of,_ he thought absently. _They sure did look real._

He began running. The path weaved in and out of trees, so he found himself having to stop every now and then to check he was on track.

After what he judged to be three kilometres, he noticed an odd figure sitting in one of the trees. The man – for Alex now realised it was a man – jumped down and landed silently on the ground. He raised a hand in mock salute, his heavily scarred face forming a sneer. "You have made it to Checkpoint One," he said. "Congratulations."

Alex ignored him and continued running. To stop now would waste time.

Two more kilometres and Alex was beginning to feel the strain on his body. His legs were aching, and he felt like his lungs had shrivelled up. That had to explain why he couldn't breathe properly. Alex knew he hadn't completed any serious runs in the past few months. That would have to change. If he continued like this he would end up on a couch, watching TV, eating crisps, with fifty-nine cats wandering in and out of the house. He smiled at the image. Unfortunately, smiling made him laugh, which wasn't the best thing he could have done because he was gasping for air as it was. Soon he was lying on the ground in an effort to get his lungs working again.

He felt something whiz just above his head. An arrow lay on the floor in front of him. With a start, Alex remembered Snake's words. _The little maggots think they can handle anything – and then, halfway through the second phase, they begin crying and telling us they're going to sue._

Alex was in the second phase! That meant that there were probably weapons or traps of some sort – he couldn't afford to be tired. He looked around carefully for the source of the arrow. It had to have come from somewhere.

The forest was the same as always. The plants, the dirt, the trees… Then Alex noticed that a particular tree had two shades of wood. The majority of it was dark, but one small, round circle was light in colour. He realised that the arrows came from here. _Maybe there's another one…_

He looked around, and sure enough, another tree had the same circle. Alex kicked himself for not being more cautious. _I'm not taking this seriously enough,_ he realised. _The reason I perform so well on missions - the reason why MI6 wants me – is that I always act as if it's a life-or-death situation. But this is just a training exercise. What am I supposed to do?_

Alex knew what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to think of this as another mission. So he did.

_Okay… Gangalad have taken three hostages – Jack, Tom, and Sabina. I have five kilometres left to run, and there are probably traps along the way. It should take me around thirty minutes to finish. But where are the headquarters? _

Alex looked at the map. The trail continued on for another five kilometres, then veered to the left. But that couldn't possibly be where they were hiding. It was too open. Gangalad would want a more secluded area. Then a saw it – there was a cave just two kilometres from here! But that seemed to easy… _Where are they?_ he thought angrily. Could they possibly be hiding under the shadow of a mountain?

And then he realised that there was only one possible place left. Indeed – underground. It would be the best place to hide a large group of people, and he knew that no one would come looking for them.

But Alex would.

He began the run with renewed vigour, keeping an eye out for traps. The leafy undergrowth would hide the best of weapons, he knew. And although his legs were begging him to stop, to take a five minute rest, he kept himself focused by picturing Tom being tortured in some underground cell.

Soon he came to a clearing. The path in front of him ended abruptly, veering sharply to the left. Alex cut through the shrubbery, checking his map to make sure he was heading in the right direction. He only had one hour left to finish this mission.

The sound of rushing water began to get louder and louder. Alex knew he was getting closer to the Santorini River. He was going to have to swim across it.

Alex finally reached the banks of the river. It stretched on for around five hundred metres; a mountain peak was visible on the other side. Just as he was about to come into view, he remembered his promise to treat this like a real mission. Was this area safe? Could there be someone waiting for him? The sound of water would cover any noise…

It turned out he was right. Alex spotted a man sitting in the trees, covered for the most part by the canopy. If Alex hadn't been looking for him, he would have been impossible to see.

_I have to get out of here quickly. No fancy stuff…_

Alex walked into open view; slowly, cautiously. He stopped when he reached the bank of the river. It was here that he sat down.

Alex felt, rather than heard, the man jump off the tree. He was ready when a powerful arm gripped him in a painful bear hug. Alex's sides were being squeezed mercilessly, and he knew that there was no space for him to execute any destabilizing move. Alex reared back, striking the man with the back of his head. He was only momentarily disorientated. But it was enough for Alex to get some room and deliver a sharp elbow strike to his stomach. The man backed away, assuming a fighting stance.

But Alex didn't have time for a fight. He picked up the rock that he had taken while he was sitting down, and threw it with as much force as he could. While the man was distracted by the sharp rock in the air, Alex delivered a quick front kick to his groin. The man fell to his knees. Alex finished him off with a punch to his lower jaw.

Alex didn't stay around to wait for him to wake up. He ran to the river, jumping into the water.

The cold came as a shock. The water was freezing; Alex felt as though his lungs were constricting.But he forced himself through the water, swimming with steady strokes. After what seemed an eternity, his hands touched solid earth. He got out of the water, his clothes clinging limply to his frame, and shivered at the sudden drop in temperature. _I thought the water was cold, but this is much, much worse._

He didn't feel the cold for long. Alex started running as soon as he got out, heading in a north-easterly direction. Even though his limbs were aching with the effort of his continued sprint, Alex knew he couldn't afford to stop. There was only around half an hour left. It would take all of his strength to make the time limit.

Alex sprinted across the soil, racing for the mountain peak. There would be no guards here – what was the point? Only an idiot would be wandering around in some godforsaken forest, and even if they _did_ manage to find the headquarters, they would have no idea where to enter from. Come to think of it, even Alex didn't know where to find the entrance. Oh well. He could deal with that later.

What was happening with the mountain? It was so far away… It seemed to shrink further into the distance even as Alex raced towards it. Five minutes, ten minutes… Finally Alex reached the base. He was panting for breath as he searched frantically for the entrance.

He heard a footstep behind him. _Shit! There _are _guards!_

Alex twisted his body around, kicking a cloud of dust into his attacker's eyes. As the man coughed, Alex delivered the most forceful kick he could think of – the roundhouse kick. The man crumpled. A curse from his right alerted Alex to another presence. Before he could think to move, Alex was in a tight hold, with his hands gripped by the unknown assailant. Alex instantly stepped back and grabbed his attacker's wrists and twisted them outwards, forcing the man to bend forward in an awkward position. His upper body was completely open – Alex directed a knee kick to his solar plexus. The man fell to the ground, immediately losing consciousness.

By this time, Alex was breathing heavily. _I really am unfit, _he thought._ I'll have to start training again. _Then, remembering where he was, he snorted. _Not that I'll have a choice._

"Great show, Cub."

Alex turned sharply towards the noise. He couldn't contain a surprised gasp.

The sergeant was standing there, and was that a smile on his face? No. It couldn't be.

"You know, I really didn't think you'd be able to finish this mission."

"But I haven't finished yet," Alex coughed weakly. "I haven't rescued the hostages—"

"You weren't supposed to. That was only a ploy to get you to hurry up."

"But—"

"Listen," the sergeant interrupted firmly, a touch of impatience colouring his voice. "The real task was to see whether or not you could meet the physical demands of this mission, and to see if you figured out where the 'headquarters' were. There were no hostages."

Alex remained silent.

"And of course, there was the man you knocked out over by the river. He'll have a nasty bruise by tomorrow."

"What about these two?" Alex asked, pointing at the men on the ground.

"Yes, well that was unexpected. They're actually Wolf and Snake."

It was then that Alex noticed that they were, indeed, Wolf and Snake. He had been so wrapped up in fighting them that he hadn't realised who they were. Now he groaned. _I'm in so much trouble._

"You weren't supposed to knock them out," the sergeant said. "But, well, serves them right for not being ready to fight you."

"So what happens now?"

"You go back to your cabin. Don't forget to wake up at three a.m. today."

"Why?"

"You have a lesson with the MI6 instructor." It was clear from the way he spoke that he didn't think much of the 'MI6 instructor'.

"Okay."

"Good. Now get in the jeep so we can get you back to the training centre."

* * *

That night – or rather, the following morning – Alex woke up quietly. It was still dark outside. His aching muscles implored him to get back in bed, but Alex knew that if he didn't show at the lesson, he would be punished. Better to deal with it now than later.

He slipped silently out of the cabin, never noticing the bright eyes that followed him until he was invisible in the moonlight.

The boy with the bright eyes blinked, a cruel smile forming on his lips. He bit his lips savagely, until a trickle of blood dripped down his face. He licked it off, savouring the sweet taste. "Alex Rider," he said softly, "I will kill you, Alex. And I will enjoy it."

He slowly fell back into sleep; his dreams filled with the silent screams of the dead, echoing throughout the night.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**Well? Did you hate it? Love it?**

**Sorry about the long wait. My exams did keep me busy, and then there was schoolwork… Anyway, I got my results back. **

**I passed! With FLYING COLOURS! There were colours just WHIZZING THROUGH THE AIR, MAN.**

**And you want to know **_**why**_** I passed? Because of the reviews you guys left me. SO REVIEW!!!! (And also because I studied, but you know, that doesn't sound as good)**


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